Page 3 of Until We Break

He glanced at the path behind us. “I know Dean.” He stopped. “I didn’t really want to chance it.”

“Chance what?” I stopped too. The neighbor’s porchlight nearby allowed me to see his face. It helped that we weren’t moving so fast anymore. I watched as he popped a piece of gum in his mouth.

“Guys do some stupid things when they can’t get what they want. Dean Waters fits into that category right now.”

I blinked. His jaw was square. His eyes dark. His chin wasn’t as angular as his cheekbones. His lips were firm but perfect. And he had a dark head of hair that made me want to reach up and test a theory I had about what it would feel like running through my fingers.

“You figured all of that out from eavesdropping on our conversation?” I asked. I didn’t want to call him my rescuer. I didn’t believe in knights.

“Hey, I was just smoking outside. You two were talking in the yard. I’m pretty sure I was out there first.”

“I don’t think he would have done anything.” I didn’t know why I was starting to doubt a firm belief I held because this stranger thought otherwise.

“It was a vibe. That’s all.”

I wondered why my heart was speeding up. “I’m Margot.” I offered him my hand.

“Caleb.” He took it.

Our palms slid into place, and I locked that moment in my memory. I somehow knew I would always remember it. The scent of his cologne colliding with the smoke. The smirk on his face. The way the cruelty that had so quickly bubbled to the surface in my veins seemed to have evaporated. I didn’t know how to describe that it felt like Caleb sensed it too. I was annoyed that as a writer I didn’t even have a word that defined that moment.

“Thank you.” I offered a smile. I studied him harder. “I didn’t see you inside the house. Who do you know at the party?” I knew I could keep walking. Dean didn’t follow us onto the road. The Blue Heron wasn’t a long walk, and I wanted to talk to Caleb a little longer.

“Some guys at work told me about it. I don’t even know whose house it is.” He cracked a smile.

I nodded. “It’s a regular beach rental. I don’t know either.”

He chuckled. There was something gritty. Something guarded about how he gave joy. As if he was holding it in and it only accidentally escaped when he wasn’t looking.

“Where do you?—”

“Should I walk?—”

We started to talk at once. I laughed. “Yes. I’m staying at the Blue Heron for the summer. You want to walk some more?”

“I do.”

Our bodies shifted so we faced forward. We walked slowly. Every few steps his fingertips brushed my knuckles. I didn’t jerk away. I waited for the next time it happened.

“The Blue Heron, huh? You know Walt?”

“Yes. He’s my uncle. My mom’s brother. I’m here for the summer.” I bit my lip. “What about you? Are you from Marshoak?” He had to be if he knew Dean.

A car drove past, kicking up a wake of warm air and dust.

“Yes. I grew up here. Everyone in my family has. I work in one of the boatyards.”

“Oh, do you like it?”

He shrugged. “Most of the time. A lot happens in the summer while the tourists are here. It’s busy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Not what you were expecting?”

I tried to rearrange my face. “No. I had no expectations. None.” I was used to meeting tourists with no ties to the island oreven North Carolina. I didn’t know what category I fit into. My uncle lived on Marshoak and my mom and I visited him nearly every summer. That didn’t make me a tourist or a local. I was something in between.

There was something undeniably attractive about Caleb. He had a face I knew I would think about when I closed my eyes tonight.

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